Even by his standards, maudlin bedroom composer Marc Bianchi has endured a pretty depressing year. Break-ups and family bereavements have all made for a creative flush, however, and The Young Machines, Bianchi's third album, is raw emotion made flesh. Constructed from a barrage of splintered drums, dreamy guitars and sombre vocals, there are some beautiful moments here - "My Girlfriend's Boyfriend" and "The Luxury of Loneliness" are both warped and soothing, but it's "Sleepy California," a swooning lament woven around a crush of beats, that really dazzles. Terrific stuff. - Q |